Back at FBI HQ, Sampson and Amiel are standing by the coffee machine and talking about how Amiel can't handle watching his buddy Bert getting buried when Lisa comes in and tells them that "Crazy Jazz" is waiting for them in the conference room. Amiel acts all squirrelly, and Lisa is all, "Can you handle this, or what?" and Amiel swears he can, and he and Sampson do this thing where they both knock on the countertop a couple of times and then head off. Lisa looks steely. Dear Leslie Hope: Please go back to your pixie cut or make hair and wardrobe give you a wig. Because you're better than this hair. Thanks. Love, The World.
Conference room. Crazy Jazz -- who looks neither crazy, nor jazzy -- cheerfully gnaws on an apple. "Hey, what's up, man?" he chirps as the agents come in the room. "Hey, how you doin', baby?" he coos to Sampson, as she takes a seat at the conference table, her breasts bobbing all over the place underneath her very cleavage-y top. It doesn't seem very office-appropriate, but I'm really not one to talk. I wore a halter top to work Friday. I had a cardigan on, too, but still. "Special Agent Sampson," she corrects him. "Special. Agent. Sampson," Crazy Jazz repeats, slowly and appreciatively. I kind of love him. "Yeah, that's right," she tells him. I kind of love her, too. I approve of a woman who isn't afraid to flash a little cleav in the workplace. Crazy Jazz wonders why he can't call his lawyer, staring at Sampson's breasts all the while. Amiel tells him he's not under arrest. "Then I want to go home," Crazy Jazz says. But Amiel doesn't think that's a good idea. Sampson shrugs, suddenly. "Hey, let's let him go," she says. "What do we care? We fulfilled our obligation, we're good." Amiel hems and haws at her, and this is clearly their version of Good Cop, Bad Cop, although it's more like Unconcerned Cop, Wishy-Washy Cop, and, no, I don't know why I call him by his first name and her by her last, but it's like why you call Sydney Bristow "Sydney" and Michael Vaughn "Vaughn." It just is. Anyway, Sampson's little Psych 101 trick works, and Crazy Jazz is curious. About why he's been called into the Bureau, and also about Sampson's cup size. "What? What are you looking at?" she finally snaps at him. "Nothing," Crazy Jazz says, sheepishly, and the camera slyly moves in and cleverly cuts her breastage out of the shot. Nicely done. Anyway, Sampson brusquely announces that Crazy Jazz's life is in danger. "We have an obligation to tell you, you're told," she says. Her accent is just adorable.